Merry Frogging Christmas
by The Buddy System
Summary: The excessively screwed-up process by which the ARMPIT Platoon learns the true meaning of Christmas involves an impromptu escapade in toyland and the violent murder of several innocent Christmas trees. But no one said it was easy to have a normal holiday with a house full of alien frogs.
1. Chapter 1

T'was the night before Christmas, and all through the house, not a Pekoponian was stirring—but a platoon of multi-colored amphibious alien life forms was wreaking even more cheerful havoc than usual in celebration of the holiday season. One would think that the Hinata family, which was out doing a bit of very last-second shopping, would have learned that leaving the Platoon alone in the house was an extremely bad idea. Apparently that assumption could not be accurately made despite the fact that the family was on its third Christmas tree in as many weeks.

The first one had been "accidentally" dwarfed in an incident involving an experimental shrink ray prototype that Kululu had been tinkering with for several days. Of course, he hadn't exactly worked out all the kinks yet, so the glitchy piece of technology had not only reduced the fir's size but had also given it a mind of its own. The resulting chaos that ensued consisted of the rest of the Platoon and their human cohabitants chasing after the tiny tree as it bounced around the house shouting obscenities and complaints about being abused as a pathetic household decoration.

Fortunately (or perhaps not), the underdeveloped technology wore off rather quickly, causing the furious fir to lose its intelligence and regain its original volume—in the middle of Natsumi's bedroom. Needless to say, that hadn't ended well. After the tree had been hacked into pieces via Dororo's katana (a process which he hadn't seemed to mind too much despite the occasional grumble about destroying the environment) and hauled away, the Platoon had made themselves scarce in order to avoid the redhead's psychotic rage.

Still, for the first few nights after the incident, it became routine to hear a yelp or two from Natsumi's room during the night as she was repeatedly pricked by the lingering fir needles hiding in her bed. Those sounds of pain were usually followed by a little snicker from a certain yellow Keronian.

The Hinatas' second Christmas tree had suffered a quicker but equally-violent death, ignited by a massive fireball from one of Giroro's guns. Said fireball of death had originally been intended for Keroro's face instead of the decorated tree, but Giroro and the others (Keroro specifically) had to admit that the sight of the fantastically-flaming fir had been more interesting than the idea of watching the incompetent Platoon leader get roasted alive. Just a little.

Now the five sat in a disjointed circle next to the tree that had replaced the replacement tree, doing the only thing that seemed to keep them from causing some form of destruction or another: eating. There were plates of cookies scattered among the Keronians, accompanied by glasses of milk and assorted candies that coincided with the holiday in some form or another.

"I love Christmas," Keroro declared, tossing a cordial cherry into his mouth with a perfect accuracy that he never bothered to display on the battlefield, much to Giroro's dismay.

The red Keronian grunted and rolled his eyes. "And what exactly do you love about it?" he demanded, obsessively polishing an already-spotless gun. "Getting to be about as useful as couch stuffing while you sit on your tail and hum those awful Pekoponian holiday songs?" He growled lowly and polished the gun in his hands with even more vigor. "Those blasted Pekoponians—their guard is down when they're observing simple-minded traditions like this! Do you know what we could be doing right now?! The planet could be ours in a matter of days and you're—"

The Platoon leader effectively shut his comrade up by shoving a gingerbread man halfway down his throat.

"Observing," Keroro answered slyly as Giroro spluttered and coughed up cookiebits. "The best way to conquer Pekopon is to think like a Pekoponian—what better way is there to get into the minds of this planet's inhabitants than to observe their activities and traditions? Kerokerokero." There was a glint in the leader's eyes. "That's my plan! I'll use Christmas to conquer Pekopon!"

"Does that plan involve gaining fifteen pounds from eating tons of junk food?" Tamama questioned innocently, sipping milk from a small glass. "'Cause if it does, I think we're making progress."

Keroro promptly fell over as though his friend's words had punched him in the side of the head. He righted himself quickly. "C-come on, you guys," he stammered, trying to regain his composure by popping another chocolate-dipped fruit into his mouth. "Where's your Christmas spirit?"

"Christmas spirit?" Kululu intoned, tilting his head slightly and tugging the fluffy white rim of his Santa hat down further. "Don't be stupid. I only like this frivolous Pekoponian holiday because it gives gullible morons a reason to gather together." He laughed. "It's fun to screw with them. Ku ku ku."

Tamama made a sound midway between a whine and an annoyed huff. "You're doing it wrong," he told his comrade before stuffing a thickly-frosted sugar cookie into his mouth. His face was already decorated with splotches of frosting and multi-colored sprinkles. "Santa's s'posed to say 'ho ho ho," he finished, effectively spewing crumbs in all directions.

"I like Christmas." Dororo held a candy cane in his hand—it looked as though he'd been idly sucking on the straight end, but no one had seen him remove his mask. (The others had stopped trying to figure out how Dororo ate without revealing his face.) The blue Keronian was leaning comfortably against the base of the Christmas tree, almost looking like a plush toy among the brightly-wrapped gifts. He still wore the glittery blue bow that Tamama had playfully stuck to his head earlier in the evening. "It's a time when people gather together and share their happiness with one another…"

Four pairs of perplexed eyes stared Dororo down as though he'd just confessed to being gay for Kululu.

"Yeah, whatever," Keroro broke the silence and called everyone's attention back to himself. "Dororo's warm fuzzies are great and all, but everyone knows that what really makes Christmas great is the—"

"Massive amounts of sugar involved?" Tamama cut in, voice muffled by the sheer amount of food he'd stuffed into his mouth. The sight of the platoon's youngest member, cheeks full of cookie matter and other sugar-coated delicacies, was reminiscent of a chubby, oddly-colored hamster.

"No!" Keroro huffed, giving Private Second Class Tamama a somewhat-annoyed look. "The best part is—"

"The increase in suicide rates during the holiday season?" Kululu droned happily, giggling under his breath. Giroro scooted away from the yellow Keronian in response, slightly unnerved.

Keroro also put just a little more distance between himself and Sergeant Major Kululu. "N-no…?" He stumbled over the word, then cleared his throat, annoyance at the repeated interruptions snapping him out of his unsettled state. "The best part of Christmas is the _presents_!" he declared loudly, holding a candy cane in the air like a scepter. "What more could a frog possibly hope for than to be presented with mountains of toys?" His eyes glowed with a sort of psychotic fire. "Gundams!" he barked, and laughed. "Hoards of them beneath this oddly-placed Pekoponian tree! I'll build an army, I'll—"

"He's lost it…" Tamama fretted, swallowing the mutilated leg of a gingerbread man. "Not to mention he's blowing the idea of Christmas presents waaay out of proportion."

Giroro's expression was one of sheer irritation. "What kind of soldier are you?" he asked harshly, fighting hard with his inner self in an effort to control the rising urge to just go ahead and blow his leader's head off. "Your main focus is a bunch of _toys_? How the frog can sappy Pekoponian gifts possibly aid us in the conquering of this planet?!"

The green frog's eyes narrowed, a devious grin spreading across his face.

"Oh, come now, Giroro," he crooned. Advancing on the Corporal, he cupped his hand around Giroro's ear. "You can't honestly say you would object to _Natsumi_ giving you a Christmas present," he whispered.

The red Keronian's face burned an even deeper shade of crimson than usual. In the next instant, Keroro was pressed against the wall, staring down the business end of one of his comrade's weapons of mass destruction.

"A-actually," he stammered quickly, eyes wide. "M-m-maybe you're more of an Easter kind of guy."


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: This chapter is kind of short, I know. I'm sorry. It seemed longer when I was typing it, I swear. But by the time I found a place to stop, I realized I hadn't even written a full two pages. ━━Σ(****ﾟ****Д****ﾟ****|||)━━ The next chapter will make up for the large lack of length. Alliteration is fun. ( ****ﾟ▽ﾟ****)/**

When the supply of holiday sweets had been completely exhausted, the five Keronians found themselves both full and bored. Mountains of sugar can only do so much, after all, and while polishing off the Christmas cookies had satiated the frogs' seemingly-endless appetites, it hadn't done much to quench the everlasting compulsion to create chaos.

In fact, the excessive amount of sugar had Tamama even more riled up than usual. At first, he had just kind of sat there, relishing in the feeling of having consumed twice his body weight in ridiculously-unhealthy snacks.

The first ripple of sugar-induced hyperactivity made the young Keronian twitch with energy.

It had taken the combined efforts of Giroro and Dororo to right the third Christmas tree before it could land on its side, Keroro trying to coax his comrade down from the uppermost branches all the while. Kululu had watched the scene unfold with evident amusement, chuckling quietly to himself as he watched his friends struggle.

Eventually, Tamama had been disengaged from the decorated tree and scolded by Giroro, who had just barely managed to dodge the massive energy beam that the rebuke had coaxed from the younger frog.

That was why there was a hole in the wall.

"You do realize," Giroro began slowly while examining the damaged wall. He turned to a grinning Keroro, who could barely hold back his laugher at having seen the Corporal nearly get toasted by the cutest member of the Platoon. "That Natsumi is going to blame _you _for this."

The grin disappeared.

"B-but it wasn't even my fault this time!" Keroro spluttered indignantly, flailing his arms like a startled goose. "You were the one who antagonized Tamama—_you _get kicked around for once!" He stilled, panting and visibly alarmed by the thought of the Hinata daughter's wrath.

Giroro stifled a snort of amusement at his leader's obvious terror. "No," he replied bluntly. "Besides, she's more likely to kill you than me, no matter who actually put the hole in the wall."

"And why's that?" Keroro asked unpleasantly, sparing a grumpy glance at Tamama. The actual cause of this whole mess was staring happily over Kululu's shoulder, an air of curiosity about him as he questioned what the Sergeant Major was doing. After a few seconds of being ignored, he trotted into the kitchen in search of more sweets.

"Because Natsumi likes me significantly more than you," Giroro responded evenly, discreetly touching the buckle of the belt strapped across his body.

Kululu responded before Keroro was able to think up a snarky comeback.

"Are you certain that isn't just a delusion conjured up by your lovesick little mind?" the yellow Keronian remarked, looking up at the Corporal and nudging his glasses back into place. "Ku ku ku."

A quick duck was the only thing that saved Kululu from the blast of Giroro's gun.

Now there were two holes in the wall.

Tamama returned from the kitchen as the smoke began to settle, wide eyed and with a half-eaten chocolate Santa dangling from his mouth. He blinked several times, confused, as Giroro panted with rage and Kululu giggled like a satanic hyena.

"What happened? What was that noise?" he asked around the lump of solid chocolate. His eyes lit with excitement for a fraction of a second. "Did Santa's sleigh crash into the house or something?" When Tamama saw Giroro's still-smoking weapon and the second gaping hole in the drywall, the enthusiasm vanished. However, there was still a quiet snicker—even Giroro's gun hadn't been able to do as much damage as he had, he reflected, examining both the craters with a secret smugness that his cute face concealed.

"No, Giroro just has no holiday cheer," Kululu remarked, grinning and going back to tinkering with the small machine resting in his lap. "Luckily, that can be fixed."

"How?" Tamama closed the distance between himself and his elder, plopping down onto the floor next to him and staring with curious eyes at the piece of technology. "What's that?"

"It's a… Christmas spirit gun," Kululu responded after a pause. He held the ray gun in one yellow hand and used the other to tug his Santa hat down again. "It'll make everyone enjoy the holiday a little bit more. Ku ku ku."

The cheerfulness with which the Sergeant Major spoke was entirely unnerving to the rest of the Platoon—all except Tamama, whose eyes took on a look of sparkly anticipation at Kululu's words.

"Kululu and Christmas spirit…" Giroro mulled, left eye twitching ever so slightly. "Next thing you know, Sergeant Stupid over there will actually come up with a decent plan to conquer this cursed planet." He glanced at Keroro, who let out a loud whine of protest at his comrade's harsh insinuation.

"I think it's kind of nice," Dororo murmured, making his presence known. "Maybe Kululu's becoming a little less… scary." He blinked—his mask made it difficult to read his expression, but there was a flicker of uneasiness in his eyes as though the very suggestion of Kululu's sudden cordiality made him uncomfortable.

"Well, let's try it out!" Tamama propositioned loudly, snatching the gun away from Kululu with a manic twinkle in his eye. "We could all use a little more Christmas spirit, anyway!"

Before anyone (mainly Giroro) had time to protest or grab the possibly-dangerous machine away from the young frog, the ray gun had been fired. Kululu's signature laugh echoed throughout the house as his invention was put to use.

"Ku ku ku!"


	3. Chapter 3

When the blinding light finally cleared, the first thing Giroro did was hit Keroro upside the head, as he usually did when things went wrong. Mostly because it was almost always Keroro's fault when things took a turn for the worse, but also because violence was a natural stress-reliever for Giroro.

"Ow! What the heck was that for?!" Keroro demanded loudly, a green hand flying to the site of impact.

"Shut up." Giroro shot a glare at his leader—he was too whiney to be in the army, he really was. "There's no way that even hurt," he grumbled, noting that he hadn't used nearly as much force as he'd wanted to—or as much as he was about to use on Kululu, for that matter.

The huff that followed was one of confession. "Not really," admitted the Sergeant, though he still rubbed his head where Giroro had assaulted him. Then he paused. "Wait a second… That didn't hurt at all, actually." He blinked. "You've gone soft, Giroro. Lost your touch—maybe you should start working out or someth—"

He was cut off by a chain of brutal punches that would have normally almost killed him, had be actually been able to feel them. Strangely enough, the Corporal's beating felt oddly similar to being clobbered by a mass of whipped cream. There was no pain, just the vague sense of being smacked by fluffiness.

Giroro seemed to notice this after the fifth strike or so.

"What the frog?" he muttered, jabbing his comrade in the side harshly and producing a giggle from the green Keronian at the sensation. Suddenly the phrase "you've gone soft" seemed so literal it was almost funny, but Giroro couldn't find it in him to laugh. "You're all… squishy…"

Keroro sobered up and returned the jab experimentally. "Likewise…"

Tamama's voice startled the pair. "It didn't work!" he whined. "If the Christmas spirit gun had worked, you guys wouldn't be hitting each other…" He seemed upset by this, crossing his arms and flopping down heavily with a sigh.

He squeaked upon impact, causing the other two to stare. Very slowly, Giroro approached Private Second Class Tamama and prodded his soft white belly.

Squeak.

"What the frog?" Giroro and Keroro spoke at the same time, ignoring Tamama's giggling. For the first time, they got a good look at each other—their usually-smooth skin was oddly textured, their limbs held in place by colorful stitches.

"We're stuffed toys," Keroro voiced the realization needlessly, embroidered eyes widening as he examined his soft hands.

A different voice called out to the trio then, a figure stepping out of the shadow of the Christmas tree. "Is everyone alright?" Dororo asked, appraising his comrades carefully.

The silence that began at the end of that question stretched on for what may as well have been years. It was broken by an eruption of laughter so abrupt that Dororo nearly jumped out of the socks that he hadn't noticed he'd been wearing.

Actually, there were a lot of things he hadn't noticed he'd been wearing until now.

"Y-you look like a girl!" Keroro blurted, falling all over himself in intense laughter.

Tamama was giggling too hard to speak, and even the usually-stoic Giroro was doubled over, nearly in tears.

Lance Corporal Dororo hopped up on top of the mantle to get a look at himself in the mirror that hung there. He felt his body go numb as he stared at his own reflection—what kind of sick prank was this? Trying to keep his composure (a task that was becoming increasingly difficult these days), he tried hard to wriggle out of the poofy blue dress, decorated with hearts and lace. The effort was wasted, however, since the garment seemed fixed to his body, as did the massive satin bow on top of his head.

"What in the world…?" he choked out, his voice having risen an octave higher than normal (perhaps to fit the rather feminine appearance he'd rather suddenly acquired). He inspected his hands, which were cushy and soft like the others' and covered by lace-trimmed gloves. His feet were similarly cloaked in frilly socks that matched the rest of his ensemble and were equally irremovable.

The others were still laughing, and now he knew why.

"What is the meaning of this?" Dororo demanded, landing with a soft thump on the floor near the rest of his platoon, who were still having trouble quieting their laughter.

"Kululu's stupid ray gun…" Giroro managed to gasp the words, wiping tears from his eyes. He cleared his throat before continuing, making an honest attempt to calm himself. "It looks like it turned us all into… toys of some kind." He still had one of his weapons strapped to his back, which he removed and examined. A second later, he pointed the gun at Keroro, who shrank back with wide eyes.

"What are you doing?" he squeaked, backing against the wall as he stared at the device. "Just because I'm extra fluffy doesn't mean I'm ready to die!"

"Calm yourself, Sergeant," Giroro said gruffly. "If getting zapped by Kululu's stupid contraption turned all of us into toys, it probably worked on this, too." The beginnings of a smirk tugged at his neatly-stitched mouth.

"And what if it didn't?!" the green Keronian demanded incredulously, a 'you have got to be frogging kidding me' look plastered on his face.

"Then we'll get Aki or Natsumi to stitch you back together later," answered the Corporal, and fired before his leader could respond.

There was a loud _pop_ and the confetti population of the room suddenly increased by several hundred.

"Darn." Giroro made a sound of disappointment and tossed the weapon aside while Keroro practically melted into the carpet from relief. "I guess Kululu's stupid invention has rendered even my weaponry useless. Not that it would have helped in this situation anyway." He crossed his plushie arms, expression knitted into a deep frown. Pun intended.

"Where is Kululu, anyway?" Tamama questioned, glancing around for the evil genius, who had somehow managed to go AWOL after the initial incident.

"I'm over here! Ku ku ku…" A voice came from near the Christmas tree, but the yellow Keronian was nowhere to be seen. "On the floor."

It was Dororo who finally found the Sergeant Major after a search that lasted about two and a half minutes. "He's here, everyone…" the ninja murmured, perplexed at his yellow comrade's current state. A soft giggle of the mad scientist variety drifted from Dororo's upturned palm, in which a very small and very plastic Kululu sat, grinning.

"He's an action figure," Tamama observed, blinking several times. "Cool."

"Ku ku ku… I guess I need to _toy_ with that prototype some more," Kululu drawled, and the rest of the platoon groaned at the horrible pun. Giroro opted to deliver a flick to the side of the genius's head that send him flying from Dororo's palm and onto the carpet, giggling on the way down. Once he landed, the Corporal snatched him up in a fist that probably would have been much more intimidating if it hadn't been filled with fluff.

"You have about three seconds to give me a decent reason as to why I shouldn't put you in the microwave this very second," Giroro growled through clenched teeth, eyes as menacing as a stuffed toy's could possibly be.

"Because I'm the only one who understands the technology that made us this way and therefore the only one who has any hope of fixing it?" Kululu offered. "I don't think a melted chunk of plastic would be much help to you, Corporal. Ku ku ku!"

Giroro couldn't argue with his logic—who else was he going to trust to change them back? He glanced about at the rest of his platoon: Keroro was repeatedly jabbing Tamama in the belly to make him squeak, the latter giggling insanely all the while. Dororo was still trying to fight his way out of his fashion disaster, a battle he was sorely losing. The small, non-melted figuring in his hand was the only chance of help.

"Fine," he griped, glaring at the Kululu action figure with an expression of mingled disgust and defeat. "Just fix this, you stupid hunk of plastic."

Dororo's voice interrupted Giroro's grumbling. "You know what I don't understand?" he inquired, addressing his comrades with somewhat puzzled eyes. "Why is Kululu an action figure when we're all stuffies?"

"Actually," Tamama cut in, openly grinning. "Dressed like that, I'd consider you more of a… doll."

The remark coaxed forth another round of giggles from the rest of the platoon, and Dororo promptly retired to a dark corner to emo by himself.

"So, can you change us back?" Keroro prodded after the laughter had died down again. He stared at Kululu, who was still tightly clenched in Giroro's fist.

"Perhaps," came the rather strained reply. "If you get Corporal Cranky to let me go." Kululu glanced pointedly at Giroro, who still seemed miffed by the situation at hand and was therefore still practically trying to constrict the life out of his plastic comrade.

"Sorry." The red frog didn't sound apologetic in the least. The lack of remorse in his voice was backed up by his harshly tossing Kululu toward the ray gun lying on the ground beside the still-twinkling Christmas tree.

On the long list of mistakes that had been made during the course of the past few days, this action ranked pretty high up.

Here is a small fact: cats love small, flying objects.

Small flying object number one, stage name Kululu, didn't make a safe landing on the carpet as expected. Instead, he was snatched, mid-fall, from the air by a very excited feline with glittering amber eyes and silky white fur.

"Oh, frog."


End file.
